


A Question of Honour

by schweet_heart



Series: Merlin Fic [49]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Awkward Conversations, Awkward First Times, Awkward Sexual Situations, Banter, Crack Treated Seriously, First Time, Forced Marriage, Humour, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Arthur, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Secretly a Virgin, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2018-09-19 18:23:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9454547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart
Summary: It took a few seconds for this to sink in. When it did, Merlin felt as if he’d been repeatedly hit over the head by a blunt object, and had to clutch at Arthur’s shoulder for support. “Are you telling me you’re a virgin?!” He squeaked, his voice reaching a pitch that was probably only audible to bats and a handful of dogs.OR: Arthur is getting married, and there are certain things he wants to know before his wedding night. Apparently, Merlin is the only one he can ask.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [archaeologist_d](https://archiveofourown.org/users/archaeologist_d/gifts).



 

 

The royal wedding preparations were coming along nicely. Already Merlin could barely recognise the Great Hall, it looked so different from the gloomy, stuffy chamber of state it usually represented. He had just finished arranging the last of the flower garlands beneath the dais, and was on his way in search of the next load of decorations, when an arm shot out of nowhere and Prince Arthur himself yanked Merlin into an alcove, hissing, “You have to help me!” into Merlin’s ear.

 

Alarmed as he was by Arthur’s sudden appearance, Merlin couldn’t help shivering a little at the warmth of the prince’s breath on his neck. “What? Why?”

 

“ _Because_ ,” Arthur said wretchedly. “I have no idea what I’m doing!”

 

Ah. Cold feet, then. “Well, you have to have _some_ idea,” Merlin said reasonably, patting Arthur’s arm in an attempt to calm him down. “You’ve been through the practice ceremony three times already, and I know you’ve been working on memorising your vows for weeks. Don’t worry, sire. It’s going to be a piece of cake.”

 

Arthur gritted his teeth. “No, Merlin. I mean — “ He paused, looking up and down the corridor as though expecting someone to jump out at them from behind one of the pillars. “I’ve never…you know. Before.”

 

Merlin blinked. “Well, of course you’ve never been married before,” he said, bemused. Honestly, Arthur could be so ridiculous when he was stressed. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

 

“Are you always this obtuse? I know I’ve never gotten _married_ before. I mean I’ve never…I’ve never _slept_ with anyone before."

 

It took a few seconds for this to sink in. When it did, Merlin felt as if he’d been repeatedly hit over the head by a blunt object, and had to clutch at Arthur’s shoulder for support. “Are you telling me you’re a virgin?!” He squeaked, his voice reaching a pitch that was probably only audible to bats and a handful of dogs. Arthur’s fingers dug painfully into his arm.

 

“Keep your voice down!”

 

“But.” Merlin couldn’t believe it. “What about all the women?”

 

“What women?”

 

“The women!” Merlin flailed with his free hand. “I don’t think I imagined them all sneaking out of your chambers at five in the morning!”

 

The prince clenched his jaw so hard, Merlin wouldn’t have been surprised if it literally cracked under the strain. At the very least, the royal dentist was going to have his work cut out for him. “It’s not as if anything _happened_ ,” he said, sounding as though he were regretting bringing up the subject at all. “Noblewomen are too complicated — it's all politics, to start with, and there’s always the risk of a royal byblow to muddy the succession. Letting them be seen leaving my chambers was more about their reputations than anything romantic. And before you ask, it’s not as if I would ever importune one of the maidservants, either.”

 

That much, at least, Merlin could understand. He swallowed hard. “What about — with one of the men? While you were out on patrols, and such?” Surely the knights could be relied on to teach their prince _something_ under the circumstances?

 

If possible, Arthur's grip on his wrist tightened even further. “Not an option."

 

“Okay. Okay.” Merlin took a deep breath. “Well, what do you want me to do about it, then? Draw you a diagram?”

 

He himself had lost his virginity when he was fourteen, to an apple-cheeked baker's daughter by the name of Rosie, but he wasn’t exactly what you’d call an expert on the female form. He’d always preferred men — one man in particular, in fact, although he wasn’t about to let Arthur know that. God, this whole conversation was wrong on so many levels.

 

The prince was squirming uncomfortably beside him, although no doubt for different reasons. “I was thinking more along the lines of a demonstration.”

 

“A demonst—“ Merlin lost all ability to talk, his mouth going suddenly dry. The image of Arthur, lying naked and spreadeagled on his enormous bed as he waited for Merlin to show him exactly how everything worked, was suddenly seared into his imagination, complete with erotic sound effects and an inconvenient stirring in his breeches. “I — why don’t you just ask Gaius?”

 

Arthur speared him with a withering glare. “Who do you think my father chose to give me the lecture about responsibility and royal bastards? There’s no way I can talk to Gaius about this, and I can’t let on to any of the knights about my…condition. It has to be you.”

 

Which was extremely flattering, and everything, but Merlin had known Arthur for years now and he could tell when the prince was attempting to play on his sympathies. For someone who had been born to the royal court and all its twisted machinations, Arthur had always been terrible at manipulating people — or perhaps Merlin just knew him too well to be fooled. 

 

“I’m not a girl,” he pointed out, with what he thought was infallible logic. "It's not as if I'll be much use to you in that department."

 

“You’re as good as.” Arthur shrugged. “Besides, how different can it be?”

 

There was a lot Merlin wanted to say to that, but he held his tongue in the interests of not getting his head chopped off.

 

“It’s hardly a crime to be a virgin at your age,” he said instead, a trifle desperately. He was aware that he sounded like someone’s matronly aunt but plowed gamely on anyway, grasping for any straw that might lead him out of this situation. “You needn’t act like it’s some kind of hideous deformity. Just tell the Lady Gwenhwyfar the truth. I’m sure she’ll be pleased to have a husband who’s as clueless as she is on your wedding night.”

 

Given that Merlin had been nursing something of a grudge against the Lady Gwenhwyfar since her parents had cemented the marriage alliance with Arthur, he thought this was a more than generous attempt to be charitable to the heretofore unseen bride. But Arthur waved it away impatiently as if it were of no consequence.

 

“I can’t do that either,” he said. His cheeks were crimson. “It's not as if it's going to be a private moment, is it? And then there's the fact that...well. My father might have…bragged a little. About my sexual prowess. During the marriage negotiations.”

 

Merlin spluttered. The idea of King Uther talking up his son to a prospective bride was…bizarre, to say the least, and a little bit creepy, and he would dearly have loved to mock Arthur for it. Unfortunately, his brain was too busy conjuring pictures of _Arthur_ teaching _Merlin_ a thing or two on that lovely big bed to concentrate on coming up with anything plausible.

 

“How would he even know?!” He demanded finally. “If you’ve never slept with anybody, who could have told him?”

 

“It’s complicated,” Arthur said grimly. “But lets just say there were a lot of lies and uncomfortable conversations involved, and I still owe Lady Eloise her own castle. Now, will you help me, or not?”

 

Merlin sighed. “All right,” he said, giving in to the inevitable. After all, Arthur really did look miserable, and Merlin had never been able to resist him when he was truly in distress. “All right, I’ll do it.”

 

Arthur’s face lit up with obvious relief. “Thank you, Merlin. I won’t forget this.”

 

“No, Your Majesty,” Merlin muttered, trailing along after the prince as he strode confidently down the corridor towards his chambers, for all the world as if he had not just been torturing his manservant with indecent proposals only moments before. “I don’t intend that you shall.”


	2. Chapter 2

By the time they reached the royal bedchamber, however, Merlin had started to think twice about agreeing to Arthur’s request. It was beginning to dawn on him exactly what this ‘demonstration’ was going to entail, and quite apart from the fact that it might well kill him to take Arthur’s virginity and then _never touch him again_ , he felt guilty doing so under false pretences. Surely Arthur would feel differently about letting Merlin get close to him if he knew how his manservant actually felt? Not to mention how Arthur might react if he knew that Merlin had magic.

 

“Arthur,” he said, watching nervously as the prince shut the chamber door and locked it firmly behind them. “Are you sure we should be doing this? What if someone comes looking for you?”

 

Arthur only shrugged. “The wedding isn’t until tomorrow. They won’t miss me for a while yet.”

 

“What about me?” Merlin objected. “They’ll miss _me_. I’m supposed to be helping with the preparations.”

 

“So they’ll think I sent you off on another errand, or something,” Arthur said impatiently. “Honestly, Merlin, stop fussing. If you don’t want to do this, just say so—I’m not about to force you.”

 

He sounded indifferent, even brusque, but Merlin could tell by the tense set of his shoulders that he wasn’t nearly as unconcerned as he pretended. He thought about the upcoming wedding night, about all the nobles and attendants listening in as Arthur pleasured his wife for the first time. It was an embarrassing custom at the best of times, but if Arthur really was a virgin, he could imagine it would be excruciating. The least he could do was save the prince some measure of humiliation at the prospect, he supposed. And it wasn’t as if it would be a hardship, having to touch him, not when Merlin had been dreaming about it for so long.

 

“I was just saying,” he said, keeping his voice deliberately light so that Arthur would know that he was teasing. “Someone has to anticipate these things, and I’m sure you’re too consumed with lust at this point to think about anything practical.”

 

Arthur’s shoulders relaxed, and he turned towards Merlin with a roll of his eyes. “Yes, because I’m so desperately in love with you,” he said, cuffing Merlin easily on the back of the head. “Stop wittering and get on with it, then, or I’ll start to wonder whether you’re really the best person for the job.”

 

Merlin ignored a faint twinge at this gentle derision and did as he was told. The first thing he did was draw the curtains against any potential onlookers—not that he expected anyone to be hanging about outside the castle trying to get a glimpse into the prince’s chambers on the off chance, but you never knew. Then he found a taper and used it to light some of the candles in the sconces, until Arthur’s rooms were filled with a soft golden glow.

 

Arthur was watching him work with an amused expression. “Are the candles a necessary part of the process, then?” 

 

Merlin flushed. “Just setting the mood,” he said, shaking out the taper. “Besides, it’ll be easier if we can see what we’re doing.”

 

Arthur nodded, apparently satisfied, and Merlin let out a quiet breath, hoping his discomfort wasn’t too obvious. He might be more experienced than Arthur, but it wasn’t as if this sort of thing happened to him often. Now, if the prince had wanted pointers on a literal roll in the hay or a hasty hand-job behind the stables, he might have felt more at ease, but a royal seduction was a little beyond his usual repertoire. 

 

“So, how do you want to do this, then?” Arthur asked, arms folded. He had a look on his face like he was trying to come up with a battle plan, and Merlin stifled a bubble of hysterical laughter as he pictured Arthur storming his lady’s bedchambers in full armour in order to secure her favours. “Are you going to get this started, or shall I?”

 

“Do you even know how?” Merlin asked, doubtful.

 

“For God’s sake, Merlin, I’m not a complete imbecile.” Arthur scowled at him. “I understand the basic mechanics, it’s only that I lack the practical experience.”

 

“Okay, okay.” Merlin rolled his eyes. “Why don’t we start with what you know, and then go from there?”

 

Arthur shrugged. “All right,” he said. For a moment, he didn’t move, regarding Merlin with that same assessing expression, then he dropped his arms and stepped forward, resting one hand on Merlin’s hip and tugging him gently closer. His gaze was on Merlin’s mouth, and Merlin felt his heart kick up a notch, his lungs constricting as he realised what Arthur was about to do. 

 

“Arthur,” he began, then stopped. He couldn’t think of a reason to stop him that wouldn’t sound like an obvious excuse, but suddenly the prospect of kissing Arthur seemed incomprehensibly terrifying. “Arthur, I really think—”

 

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur said, but it must have been an automatic response because a moment later his mouth found Merlin’s, and then it became entirely impossible for Merlin to speak at all.

 

He would have liked to have said he hated the experience, or that it was in any way sub-par or underwhelming, but it really, really wasn’t. Arthur’s lips were soft and slightly chapped, nudging tentatively against his own for a moment until Merlin parted them to allow him entrance. He did not kiss the way Merlin had imagined he might, all arrogance and strength and conquering bravado, but rather with a charming sweetness that Merlin had not expected but was immediately addicted to. He wondered if the prince had kissed people before. It didn’t _feel_ like a first kiss—there was nothing sloppy or uncoordinated about it, but that could have been mere natural talent. Then Arthur pressed closer, crowding Merlin back against one of the bedposts, his hands sliding against Merlin’s ribs and down along the curve of his arse, and Merlin stopped thinking altogether in favour of enjoying himself. 

 

“That’s, um,” Merlin said later, trying to catch his breath. “That’s a good—I mean, foreplay is very important, especially when it comes to—” 

 

He stopped talking abruptly when Arthur leaned in and kissed him again, and okay, the prince had _definitely_ practiced kissing before, there could be no doubt about it. Merlin made an aggrieved noise, imagining all the people who’d had the pleasure of those plush lips before him. Had they, too, gone weak at the knees when Arthur’s teeth scraped their bottom lip, their heads swimming at the feel of Arthur’s tongue where it slid against theirs? Had Arthur cradled the backs of their necks _just so_ , his broad palm supporting the base of the skull in a way that was protective without being suffocating? 

 

Arthur’s hips ground against his, shocking a moan out of Merlin’s mouth, and _fuck_ , he was actually really good at this, was it some kind of royal prerequisite that Arthur had to be good at bloody everything? He probably didn’t even need a teacher, he just wanted to torment Merlin into an early grave by kissing him to death.  

 

Remembering what he was there for, however, sobered Merlin enough that he was able to push Arthur away from him, leaning back against the bed frame as he struggled to recollect himself. 

 

“What is it?” Arthur asked, studying him with a faintly worried expression. “Did I do something wrong?”

 

“No, that was— “ _wonderful_ “ —fine. That was fine,” Merlin said, resisting the urge to touch his lips  and swoon like some kind of lovestruck maiden. His cock was throbbing in his breeches, and he tried to discreetly adjust himself while Arthur wasn’t looking. “Um. I don’t think you need any lessons in that department.” More’s the pity.

 

This made Arthur look insufferably smug again, which was infinitely preferable to looking sweet and uncertain the way he had done a moment before. Merlin was much more accustomed to the brash and arrogant Arthur, and the normalcy of that expression allowed him some room to think. If they were really going to do this, then they needed to set some kind of ground rules, if only to ensure that they didn’t inadvertently destroy their friendship in the process. Merlin was willing to go through a lot for Arthur’s sake, but he wasn’t about to lose him just because the prince decided he could no longer look his manservant in the face after buggering him six ways from Sunday.

 

“I was just thinking we need to set some boundaries,” he said, before he could think better of it. Just because he _wanted_ to give in and let Arthur use him as he willed didn’t mean it was a good idea. Probably. “About…things.” Oh yes, very well done, Merlin, that was very clear. “I mean, about what we…want. From this.”

 

Arthur cocked his head. “What we want?”

 

“You know.” Merlin waved a vague hand, certain he was about to spontaneously combust from all this blushing. “Boundaries. It’s important to have boundaries!”

 

Arthur still looked a bit as if he wanted to laugh, but to Merlin’s surprise he controlled himself, and instead seemed to actually consider Merlin’s words quite seriously. “All right,” he said finally. “I asked you to do this as a favour, so it seems only fair to allow you to set the terms.”

 

“Good,” Merlin said. “That’s—good. Okay. So, first rule…” He paused, trying to think of how to phrase it, before opting for the simplest route. “If I do anything you don’t like, tell me, okay? Don’t think you have to just grin and bear it—this isn’t some kind of tourney where the first person to come wins. The whole point is for you to enjoy yourself and figure out what you like, so if you’re not having fun, we stop. Period.”

 

Something unmistakably fond crossed Arthur’s face for a moment, before it was gone. “Okay.”

 

“Second rule…” Merlin grinned. “Second rule is, you have to do what I say.”

 

 _That_ provoked a somewhat larger reaction, but Merlin couldn’t tell if it was annoyance or something else that made Arthur narrow his eyes at him, his cheeks flooding with colour. Interesting. Merlin hadn’t thought princes knew _how_ to blush. “I’m not going to let you boss me around,” Arthur said, folding this arms protectively across his chest. “ _I’m_ the prince here, not you.”

 

“You’re the prince of something, all right,” Merlin muttered. When Arthur scowled at him, he rolled his eyes. “I didn’t mean that I’m going to order you about—just…of the two of us, I’m the only one who has done this before, so the only way you’re going to learn anything is if you listen to me. If you want to know something, _ask,_ instead of blundering around on your own.”

 

“Of the two of us, I’m pretty sure _I’m_ not an idiot,” Arthur grumbled, but Merlin chose to ignore him in the interests of retaining his sanity.

 

“As for the third rule…” Merlin studied the prince for a moment. He really couldn’t think of a third rule that would make sense, other than _please don’t make me fall in love with you_. But he was pretty sure he’d broken that one a long time ago. “No pet names or romantic stuff. Let’s not forget we’re here for a purpose.” 

 

Arthur’s eyebrows went up at that, but all he said was, “All right.” 

 

“And no more kissing,” Merlin added, regretfully. He was already skirting the edge of impossibility as it was, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his head if Arthur kept kissing him like that. “Got it?”

 

“Got it.” Was it his imagination, or did Arthur look faintly disappointed? “Wait—do you mean no kissing at all, or just on the lips?” 

 

“On the lips,” Merlin said, after a brief hesitation. “Elsewhere is fine.” He could deal with elsewhere, right? “Elsewhere is more than fine.” 

 

Arthur nodded, looking satisfied, and Merlin tried not to wonder exactly what he was planning. He was still having trouble wrapping his mind around what they were about to do—he didn’t need to start having ridiculous fantasies on top of it all. “Okay then, I think that’s all. Unless you have something to add?” 

 

Arthur shook his head. “I think you’ve covered everything.” His eyes were on Merlin’s mouth again, an odd, tense expression on his face, and Merlin felt a full-body shiver run through him as he realised he had run out of ways to procrastinate. They were actually going to do this. “Shall we continue, then?”

 

“Okay,” Merlin agreed, swallowing hard. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was about to make a seriously big mistake. “Okay, yeah, let’s do it.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should note that the characters make several cissexist statements and assumptions in this chapter. I love this show, but it does have its moments, and sadly I don't think this is the right fic in which to explore the myriad gender issues of faux!medieval!Camelot, so please be aware if that is something that may bother you. 
> 
> Also, wow, the sex scene turned out to be longer than _the rest of the fic put together_ , so I broke it into two chapters. I'm sorry you guys have been waiting so long, lol, but I hope that makes up for it a little bit. Chapter 4 should be up fairly soon (famous last words, I know).

 

The first step was to get them both naked. 

 

“What do you mean, I should undress you?” Arthur demanded. “You’re my manservant, not the other way around.”

 

“Usually, yes,” Merlin said, folding his arms and fixing Arthur with his most unimpressed glare. “But your wife isn’t, so you need to get used to sorting out someone else’s laces as well as your own. Besides,” he added, when Arthur glowered at him, “women have far more stays and ties than men do, so you’re going to need all the practice you can get.” 

 

It shouldn’t have been that difficult—despite all appearances to the contrary, Merlin knew that Arthur _could_ dress and undress himself, if the occasion called for it. For some reason, however, the prince seemed to have lost all form of coordination, his fingers fumbling on the laces at Merlin’s throat as if he were dealing with the most intricate of Gordian knots. Merlin let him struggle for a few minutes, torn between amusement and arousal at the look of fierce concentration on Arthur’s face, but finally he decided to take pity on him.

 

“Most knots have an easy fix, if you know where to look for it,” he said, reaching up and brushing Arthur’s hands aside. Grasping one end of the offending tie, he gave it a quick twist and pushed it back through the final loop. The knot fell apart in his hands. “See? Nothing to it.” 

 

He looked up into Arthur’s face, unable to resist smirking a little when he caught sight of the prince’s outraged glare. “I do know how to untie a knot, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur said through gritted teeth. “I’m just not used to doing it from this angle, that’s all. And your chin was in the way.”

 

“Whatever you say, sire,” Merlin said. Arthur’s scowl deepened, but before he could lose his temper Merlin said quickly, “Why don’t you try doing the rest, then? I promise to interfere as little as possible.”

 

This, however, turned out to be a mistake. Arthur was a quick learner, or perhaps he had simply overcome whatever temporary fit of clumsiness it was that had been holding him back, because his hands when he unlaced Merlin’s tunic were steady and determined, brushing warm and tantalisingly close against Merlin’s neck and chest. Merlin felt his cock stir in his breeches and took a steadying breath, instinctively suppressing the feeling before he realised that he didn’t have to. For the moment, at least, it hardly mattered if Arthur knew he was attracted to him; in light of what they were about to do, he would probably think it strange if Merlin _didn’t_ show some sign of interest in the proceedings. Still, the thought that Arthur might look at him and see—might realise just _how much_ Merlin wanted this—was enough to make his stomach squirm.

 

Merlin shucked off his boots while Arthur removed his shirt, then without needing to be told the prince stepped in close again and began to unfasten Merlin’s belt. There was a strange quality to the air now, something electric, and a kind of matching tension gathered under Merlin’s skin until he was sure that he would spark off anything he touched. It was a sensation not unlike that which the working of difficult magic sometimes gave him, as if he had somehow become extra sensitive to the shifting rhythms of the world around him, and yet he still jumped when Arthur leaned in to press a soft kiss to the base of his throat. 

 

“This okay?” the prince said quietly, and Merlin nodded, unable to speak. Arthur was looking up at him through his lashes, his pupils dark, lips slightly parted. He trailed his fingertips up Merlin’s neck, tipping Merlin’s head gently to the side so that he could mouth kisses against the exposed skin, and Merlin drew in a shuddering breath. He hadn’t been expecting this—hadn’t thought about how it would feel to have Arthur touching him like a lover instead of some kind of obligation—and he was half ashamed to realise that he had only ever pictured the pleasure in this scenario going in one direction. He knew he wasn’t exactly hideous—he’d had enough admirers over the years to be satisfied on that score—but this was _Arthur_ , and somehow Merlin had never quite been able to imagine Camelot’s golden prince ever being interested enough to reciprocate. And yet, that seemed to be exactly what Arthur was intent on doing. 

 

Arthur’s hand slid beneath his waistband, ghosting hesitantly over Merlin’s hardening cock then returning with more confidence when Merlin let out a low moan. By this point, he had almost forgotten that this was meant to be a lesson in pleasing women, not a matter of pleasing themselves. The prince, likewise, seemed to be enjoying taking his time, sucking leisurely bruises into Merlin’s neck as he explored the region below his waist. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Merlin stored away this fact for future analysis: Arthur _really_ liked kissing. And touching. And—maybe being touched? Merlin settled a tentative hand against the prince’s neck and was rewarded with a pleased sound, which turned into something closer to a purr as Merlin’s fingers carded through the soft hair at Arthur’s nape. Arthur was so gorgeous like this, all tawny skin over smooth muscle, and Merlin pressed up against him, hands roaming greedily as he did some exploring of his own.

 

Soon enough, however, Arthur had managed to work Merlin’s trousers down off his hips, and the realisation that he was standing in front of _the prince_ wearing only his smalls suddenly penetrated Merlin’s lust-fogged brain. He broke out of Arthur’s hold with a gasp, taking a quick step back in the hopes that some semblance of sanity might return and all but hobbling himself with his breeches as he did so. Fortunately Arthur caught him before he could trip, his strong arms snaking around Merlin’s waist.

 

“Um,” Merlin said. Arthur’s face was very close, his thigh pressed against Merlin’s aching groin. “Thanks?”

 

“Why did you stop?” Arthur looked as dazed as he felt, his lips spit-slick and shiny. “Are you—is something—?”

 

“Bed,” Merlin blurted, gesturing. “We should probably move this to the bed.”

 

“Oh. Right.” For a moment, Arthur just blinked, as if he, too, had forgotten what they were supposed to be doing. Then his expression cleared. “Right. Bed,” he said, sounding more confident. He set Merlin on his feet again, steadying him while he kicked off his trousers, then let Merlin lead him across the room, pausing as they reached the end of the bed. 

 

“How do you want to do this?” he asked, like this was just another strategic exercise that the two of them had been asked to solve. Unlike Merlin, he didn’t seem to be at all taken aback by his own enthusiasm—and why would he be, since this had been his idea in the first place?—and was merely waiting for instructions as to how to proceed. Merlin shook off his swirling thoughts and tried to concentrate; they were here for a reason, after all, and as long as he could force himself to remember that, he had a decent shot of getting through this with his sanity intact.

 

“I figured we’d make this as close to the real thing as possible,” he said, after a moment’s consideration. “So—I’ll lie here on my back, and we can just…do it…like that. Okay?”

 

“You’re the expert,” Arthur said, although the crook of his eyebrow suggested he was beginning to doubt that statement. He sat down on the edge of the bed and began to unlace his boots, leaving Merlin to untangle the drawstring of his braies and, after a moment’s hesitation, slide them to the floor and step out of them, leaving himself naked in the warm evening air. 

 

It felt like crossing a line, somehow. Arthur had been naked in front of Merlin many times—such was the nature of a manservant’s duties—but this was the first time Merlin had ever deliberately disrobed in his presence, and it seemed to add an additional frisson to the already charged atmosphere. It didn’t help that Arthur’s eyes were on him still, his gaze travelling along Merlin’s torso towards his cock before shying away, his cheeks red. He slipped off his boots and then stood up, deliberately ignoring Merlin as he stripped off his own trousers and underwear. Finally, when he had tossed his clothing into one corner of the room—no doubt Merlin would have to go hunting for it later—he turned to Merlin with his arms folded, lifting his chin in a gesture that was obviously meant to convey supreme confidence, but which did not entirely conceal the faint uncertainty in his eyes.

 

“Well?”

 

Merlin wanted to kiss him. “You’ll do,” Merlin said, clearing his throat as his voice came out husky. He groped around for something to say that wasn’t hopelessly soppy, and seized upon the first thing that came to mind. “Do you have—I mean, we’re going to need some…” He gestured, words failing him at the expression on Arthur’s face. “Something to make it easier.”

 

Arthur smirked. “Don’t worry,” he said, retrieving a small vial from the corner of his nightstand. “This ought to work as well for two as for one.”

 

Merlin’s cheeks burned as he tried not to picture exactly what use Arthur might have had for the contents of that little jar. And failed. “Um,” he said. “Yeah, great. That should be fine.” 

 

“I thought you said you’d done this before.”

 

“Not often!” Merlin retorted, wondering if Arthur had somehow managed to get the idea that he was some kind of harlot. “Between running around after you and helping out in the infirmary, I don’t exactly get a lot of time for romance. Besides,” he added, before he could stop himself, “it’s different with you.” 

 

Arthur’s eyes sharpened. “Different how?”

 

“It just is.” Merlin shrugged one shoulder and turned away, climbing onto the bed. After a moment, Arthur followed him, the mattress dipping beneath their combined weight. Merlin could feel him _looking_ at him again, and wondered why Arthur had to pick now to start paying attention. He hurried on. “So. You know how this part goes, right?” 

 

“Mostly,” Arthur said, cautiously. “Why don’t you talk me through it, first?” 

 

“Okay.” Merlin took a deep breath, and tried to think of the simplest way to explain. “Basically, for a girl, there’s—well, physically, it’s like—only we don’t—”

 

“Spit it out, Merlin, we don’t have all night, you know,” Arthur drawled, making a _hurry up_ gesture, and Merlin glared at him.

 

“All right, fine! Girls get wet, but we don’t, so you’re going to have to use the oil on me instead. Will that do?”

 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Arthur asked, grinning. Merlin flopped back onto the bed with a huff and stared at the ceiling, wondering what on earth had possessed him to agree to do this with Arthur, of all people. Clearly, prolonged exposure to the prince had somehow melted his brain. “So do I just—pour it on, or what?”

 

Merlin cocked his head to look at Arthur, who was holding the vial of oil out over him with an inquiring expression. He was 90% certain Arthur was joking, but he had learned the hard way that it didn’t pay to underestimate Arthur’s ignorance when it came to the basic facts of life. He heaved a put upon sigh. “Oh for the love of—come here, and I’ll show you.” 

 

As Merlin had observed before, Arthur wasn’t actually a terrible pupil—he listened to what Merlin was saying, and he did at least seem to care about not hurting him or getting anything wrong, presumably because he didn’t want to screw up for his bride when the big day arrived. Still, that didn’t make Merlin feel any less exposed when he finally lay back, hips propped up on one of Arthur’s pillows, knees apart, and waited for the prince to get on with the job. His whole body flinched as Arthur’s knuckles brushed against his side.

 

“You’re too skinny,” Arthur murmured, and although it sounded like a criticism, something about his tone made Merlin flush as though it had been a compliment, his cock twitching beneath the prince’s scrutiny. “You need to eat more.” 

 

“I eat plenty,” Merlin said, wrong-footed. “I’ll have you know my mother calls me a bottomless pit.” 

 

“No, I—” Arthur pulled back, his hand dropping away, and his gaze when he met Merlin’s eyes was almost startled, as if he hadn’t realised what he was saying. He cleared his throat. “What I mean is, are you sure I’m not going to crush you? I’d hate to have to explain to Gaius how I broke his apprentice.” 

 

Merlin snorted, but all he said was, “Let me worry about that. You just worry about doing your bit. Trust me, if I feel like I’m about to suffocate under your weight, I’ll let you know.” 

 

“Still not fat, Merlin,” Arthur warned, but Merlin opened his eyes innocently wide and Arthur smirked in spite of himself, finally doing as he was instructed. Merlin settled onto the pillow and tried to relax. That was good. Humour was good. If they could just hold onto that part of their relationship, they would be fine, right?

 

While Arthur poured the oil into his palms, Merlin stayed silent, trying to take his mind off what was happening by reciting in his head the things he still had to do in order to prepare for the wedding. Arthur was quiet too, fumbling a little at first as he spread the slick along Merlin's cleft, so that Merlin was taken by surprise when he finally found and breached his hole with one finger. The sensation wasn't so much unpleasant as it was unexpected, and he let out a hiss before he could stop himself, his body tensing. Arthur immediately stopped what he was doing. 

 

“Merlin?”

 

“It’s fine,” Merlin managed, breathing in slowly through his nose. “It’s just—it’s been a while, that’s all. Keep going.”

 

Arthur made an uncertain noise. “Are you sure?” he asked, removing his finger altogether. He leaned over, seeking Merlin’s gaze. “You’re supposed to tell me if you’re uncomfortable, remember? It’s not fair unless the rules apply to both of us.”

 

Merlin spared a moment to think with exasperated affection that _of course_ Arthur would choose this moment to come over all noble and gentlemanlike, before letting out his breath in a huff.

 

“I’m sure,” he said, spreading his legs wider so that Arthur would get the point. “Trust me. Just—go slowly, all right?” 

 

Arthur appeared to take him at his word, resuming his ministrations at the sort of speed that would have made a snail seem overly hasty. He teased the rim of Merlin’s hole with one finger, dipping inside only briefly before retreating again, and then returned a moment later to probe a fraction deeper, massaging as he went in a way that he didn’t seem to realise was driving Merlin crazy. Or maybe he did, since every time Merlin tried to bear down onto Arthur’s hand he somehow managed to keep sliding out of reach, and Merlin was beginning to suspect the prince was messing with him. 

 

“I’m not going to break, you know,” Merlin snapped finally, giving Arthur a little shove with his foot. “But I may die of frustration before you’re finished. Will you hurry up?”

 

“Be patient,” Arthur said, and yes, there was definitely a note of smugness in his voice, the prat. “I’m learning. You want me to understand my lessons thoroughly, don’t you, Merlin? Besides, you’re the one who said I should go slow.”

 

Merlin rolled his eyes. “That’s slow enough. Just—add another finger.” 

 

Arthur scoffed. “There’s no way you can take another finger in there,” he said. “Don’t be stupid.”

 

“Arthur,” Merlin said in a dangerous voice. “You agreed to do whatever I say. Either you do it or I will, but one of us needs to before I decide to—”

 

He cut off abruptly with a small choking sound. Arthur’s finger was back, accompanied by a second and then a third, and by whatever measure of luck it was that seemed to follow fools and princes, he had managed to find exactly the right angle to send a shockwave jolting through Merlin’s cock. Merlin let out a little ‘uh’ and fell back against the pillows, his body arching as a wave of pleasure swept through him. “Jesus _fuck_ ,” he swore, his feet scrabbling for purchase on the bedclothes. “A little warning, next time?”

 

“I’m sorry.” Arthur looked stricken. “I told you we should have—”

 

“That,” Merlin interrupted, still panting a little. “That wasn’t because you were hurting me.”

 

“It wasn’t?” Arthur’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Then what—oh.” His expression changed to one of curiosity, and without needing Merlin’s urging, he slid his fingers back inside, probing cautiously around until he found the same spot again. Merlin clutched at the bedsheets and let out a little whimper, his cock jerking against his stomach as desire spiked through his veins.

 

“You like that, don’t you?” Arthur murmured, sounding faintly surprised. “I always thought—I mean, I had assumed it must be painful.” 

 

“Only if you do it wrong,” Merlin ground out, attempting to sound flippant, and when Arthur moved again he whined, completely forgoing all thought of dignity as he rocked up into Arthur’s touch. The prince’s eyes were fixed on the place where their bodies were joined, watching as though fascinated by the hide and seek of his fingers where they slid in and out of Merlin’s hole. Had Merlin retained enough brainpower to think about it, he might have been afraid that he had given himself away, or that Arthur would look at him differently for enjoying this so much. But the prince didn’t seem in the least bit repelled by what they were doing—if anything, he appeared all too engrossed, the strokes of his fingers becoming surer and more accurate as he learned the none-too-subtle cues of Merlin’s body. 

 

The whole thing was torture. As with most tasks he attempted, Arthur seemed determined to excel at this as well, and once he learned what Merlin liked he began to kiss and caress him wherever he could reach, scraping his teeth over the jut of Merlin’s hipbones in a distinctly maddening way. Flat on his back and already preoccupied with his role as Arthur’s “teacher,” there was little that Merlin could do in response, so there was nothing to distract him from the pressure that was beginning to build at the base of his spine, ratcheting higher and higher with each pump of Arthur’s fingers inside him. When the prince’s mouth closed over one of Merlin’s nipples and sucked, his tongue flicking lightly over the tight bud, Merlin bucked up into him with a helpless groan, his cry of pleasure so loud that he thought could probably have been heard out in the courtyard.

 

“Fuck, Arthur, stop!”

 

Arthur froze, then pulled away so quickly, he almost overbalanced and tumbled off the bed. “What? What is it?” 

 

“Too much,” Merlin said, breathing hard. “Can’t—can’t last much longer if you keep doing that. I—” He swallowed and pulled at his cock, closing his eyes for a moment to take the edge off. An instant later, however, they flew open again as Arthur’s hand batted his away and took its place. “What—?”

 

“Mine,” Arthur said, sliding his fingers along Merlin’s length in a way that made his eyes roll back into his head. “This is my learning experience, remember?” 

 

“This isn’t exactly something you’ll have to do with your wife,” Merlin pointed out. Arthur’s sword calluses felt almost painfully good against his sensitive prick, rubbing against the head and making Merlin shudder. “Figured—oh _god_ —I figured I could just take care of it myself.” 

 

Arthur’s face darkened for a moment, though Merlin couldn’t think why. “And how many times have you done this with a woman?” he wanted to know, edging closer to get a better grip. 

 

“A—A few times.” Merlin’s hips jerked, but Arthur’s hand was tight around the base of his cock now, cruelly keeping him from finding friction. “There was a Druid girl, once—”

 

He stopped. He didn’t want to think about Freya at the moment, not when the prince’s hand was on him and it felt so good. Thinking about Freya would mean thinking about all the other things too, like the way he had been willing to run away with her, and the very good reasons they both had for being so afraid. Reasons that still hadn’t changed, even if Merlin was now in the prince’s bed.

 

Arthur had stopped moving now, too, and was looking down at Merlin with a slight frown. “A Druid girl?” he prompted. “I assume this was in Ealdor, and not—while you were here in Camelot.” 

 

 _And not while you were somewhere you might have been caught and executed for it_ , Merlin silently interpreted. He bit his lip and glanced away, not wanting to lie but not knowing how to tell the truth either. How exactly could he explain to Arthur that the last woman he had done this with had been executed by the prince and his knights shortly afterwards? Arthur’s hand twisted slightly around his prick, as if he knew what was going through Merlin’s mind, and Merlin grunted.

 

“Never mind,” he said, letting out the sadness with a slow breath. “It was a long time ago.”

 

The mention of Freya, however, had caused the atmosphere in the room to shift, and Merlin remembered once again the real reason they were here. Shoving at Arthur’s hand until it let go of his cock, he said, “I think that’s enough for now, yeah? Time to move on.”

 

Arthur just nodded, letting Merlin guide him through the basics of the act of penetration. He seemed oddly preoccupied now, his jaw set and his eyes elsewhere as he listened to Merlin’s brief instructions. Merlin knew that look—it was the same one he had seen on Arthur’s face when he had been preparing to fight the Black Knight, the same one he wore whenever he went into battle against terrible odds. Was he really that nervous? Or was it just that he found the idea of fucking a man repulsive, when it came right down to it?

 

“If it helps, try to think of me as a girl,” Merlin said finally, swallowing a slightly hysterical giggle as Arthur glared at him.

 

“I always think of you as a girl, _Mer_ lin,” the prince said, shuffling into position between Merlin’s bent legs. His eyes dropped to Merlin’s cock, flushed and leaking against his stomach, and Merlin could have sworn he saw him lick his lips. “But just at the moment, I’d rather think about something else.” 

 

Merlin opened his mouth again to retort—though to say what, he didn’t know—but at that moment Arthur picked up the vial of oil and began to spread it along his length as Merlin had instructed, and abruptly Merlin’s voice dried up. They were really going to go through with this. _Arthur_ was going to go through with this, was even now getting ready to fuck him the way Merlin had only ever dreamed he would. He let out a small whimper, covering his mouth with one hand as the prince looked up at him. 

 

“Should I—is this enough?”

 

Merlin nodded, and Arthur exhaled shakily, capping the bottle of oil and setting it firmly to one side. His hands were shining with the lubricant, his cock gleaming thick and full as he positioned it against Merlin’s entrance, and in another moment Merlin felt the slick tip of it nudging against his hole, as though stopping courteously to ask for permission before pressing its way inside.

 

Merlin did his best to relax into the sensation, but it wasn’t easy. Arthur’s cock was shorter and fatter than his, with enough girth to make it a tight stretch, and in spite of himself Merlin found himself clenching up against the intrusion, letting out a small huff of pain as Arthur breached him. The prince stopped moving at once, his breath coming hard with the effort of holding himself in place.

 

“Merlin, fuck, you’re—it’s too tight, I’ll never be able to fit.”

 

“It’ll be fine,” Merlin rasped. “I’ve done this before, remember? Now, for God’s sake, stop talking about it and _move_!”

 

For once, Arthur did as he was told, gripping Merlin’s knees and pushing forward just as Merlin let out his breath to release the tension, the blunt head of his cock forcing its way past that first ring of muscle without any further resistance. Merlin groaned aloud, closing his eyes against the sudden burn, and then Arthur was inside him, filling him, and he opened his eyes again to see the prince poised above him with his mouth slightly open, one hand braced at either side of Merlin’s hips. For an instant, they both hung there, still and panting, staring at one another in a kind of shock. If earlier had felt like crossing a line, then this was shattering it completely, and even through his euphoria Merlin recognised they had reached the point of no return: from this moment on, there would be no turning back.

 

“Come _on_ ,” he grunted. He hooked his legs around Arthur’s waist, canting his hips for a better angle, and with a low groan of his own Arthur pressed forward, driving his cock home inside of Merlin with a long, hot slide. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

It was obvious that Arthur wasn’t going to last long; he was trembling by the time he bottomed out, blowing like an overworked plow-horse as he visibly fought to hold himself back. Merlin stroked his shoulders and chest, marvelling at the way Arthur’s breath caught and shuddered with each touch. He was so responsive, so eager, in spite of the fact that this couldn’t have been exactly what he pictured when he’d imagined his first time having sex. Merlin had no doubt it was better than what had been planned for him—a cold, formal fuck with a stranger in the state rooms, with all the councillors looking on—but even so he couldn’t help wondering whether Arthur was thinking of his future wife at that moment, if it were her hands that he imagined were touching him.

 

“You okay?” he murmured. Eyes closed, Arthur nodded, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

 

“You?”

 

“Yeah.” He was more than okay, really, the burn of his stretched muscles fading into a pleasant ache as he got used to the feeling of Arthur inside him. His erection had flagged a little, though, and he palmed his cock for a moment, looking up into Arthur’s tense face. “You think you can move?”

 

Arthur let out a terse laugh. “Not if you want this to last more than a few seconds,” he admitted, his voice turned gravelly with the strain. He opened his eyes again, looking down at Merlin with a slightly rueful expression, and Merlin smiled. He could vividly remember his own first time—he had been so eager to come he’d been ready to burst out of his skin, every nerve ending alive with conflicting sensations. If Arthur felt anything like a _fraction_ of that excitement, it was a wonder he had been able to hold back at all.

 

“Take your time,” he said, with a teasing wriggle of his hips. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

 

Arthur only snorted, but some of the anxiety faded from his expression, and it struck Merlin then just what a vulnerable position Arthur had placed himself in, seeking him out as the person with whom he wanted to share this experience. If Merlin had been anyone else—anyone less dedicated to the protection and maintenance of Arthur’s well-being, anyway—it would have been all too easy for him to exploit such a moment, to demand favours of some sort in exchange for his complicity. 

 

Then again, if Merlin had been anyone else, Arthur likely wouldn’t have approached him at all, and he wasn’t entirely sure what to think about that fact. All he knew was, the knowledge that _he_ was the one that Arthur had chosen to trust in this situation was the biggest turn-on that he could think of. He stroked his cock slowly, thumbing the bead of pre-cum at the head and looking up at Arthur, who seemed to have entered into some kind of meditative trance in an effort to get himself under control. Merlin supposed that he had Arthur’s knightly training to thank for his restraint, or perhaps Arthur was actually worried, now that it came down to it, that he would somehow fail or prove to be inadequate in some way. God only knew the sorts of ideas he'd picked up from the knights over the years, but it likely wasn't anything particularly helpful. Merlin reached up with his free hand, curving his fingers around the back of Arthur’s neck and feeling the tendons twitch as Arthur looked down at him. 

 

“You can do this, Arthur,” Merlin said seriously, meeting his eyes. “It’s not so complicated, really. Only, you need to stop thinking so much and let your instincts guide you.” He grinned. “I promise I’ll tell you if you’re terrible, if that’s what you’re worried about.”  

 

That seemed to get through to the prince, who growled, “You'll do no such thing, _Mer_ lin,” and shifted his weight ever so slightly to glare at him, producing just enough friction to send sparks darting along Merlin’s skin. Merlin sucked in his breath, his hand tightening on Arthur’s nape. 

 

“You'll have to do better than that, then," he said, his voice strangled. Arthur moved again, deliberately this time, and Merlin lost track of their banter for a moment in the face of that sudden and overwhelming _need,_ clamping down hard on his magic to keep it from doing something stupid. “ _God_. All right, I take it back.” 

 

And then, _finally,_ Arthur was back in motion—a little awkward at first, until he found a serviceable rhythm, his cock driving in and out of Merlin at a shallow angle. Merlin helped him along as best he could, hooking his legs around Arthur’s waist and drawing him closer, his hands guiding Arthur’s hips until he found just the right spot. 

 

“Fuck, yes. _Yes_ ,” Merlin hissed, as the prince rocked into him. “God—like that—Arthur—”

 

Arthur let out a breathy chuckle and fucked him harder, lifting one hand free of the mattress for an instant to brush his thumb over Merlin's lower lip. “I think I like you better like this,” he said, amused and out of breath in equal measure. “You’re not so argumentative.” 

 

“That would imply that you liked me to begin with,” Merlin ground out, then groaned as Arthur slid back into him with punishing force, his head falling back. “Fuck. Never mind. I think I like you better like this, too.”

 

All too soon, however, Merlin could feel the first threads of his orgasm beginning to gather at the base of his spine, his magic pulsing at the tips of his fingers as though eager to be set free, and he could tell from the way Arthur’s thrusts were becoming more erratic that he was getting close. The prince had his eyes screwed shut, his head turned away from Merlin as though in pain, his lips clamped together so tight they had almost turned white as he struggled to hold back whatever sounds he might have made. Under the circumstances, Merlin supposed he couldn't fault him for trying to be discreet, but suddenly it seemed vitally important that Arthur should not be allowed to look away, should not be able to pretend that it was someone else who was doing this with him, _to_ him. Merlin might be forced to give him up tomorrow, might have no greater claim on his prince than friendship and loyalty, but if that was all he got then he was damn well going to make sure he got his money’s worth.

 

“Look at me,” he whispered. His fingers dug into Arthur’s back, dimpling the taut skin. Arthur’s eyes flickered open and stared directly into Merlin’s own, wide and glazed over with lust. “Arthur. _Look at me_.”

 

They were forehead to forehead, close enough to share breath. Unable to help himself, Merlin tilted his chin so that their lips were almost touching, their mouths catching and grazing in a not-quite-kiss every time Arthur moved inside him. He told himself that it wasn’t breaking the rules as long as they didn’t _actually_ kiss, as long as he refrained from closing the distance between them and letting Arthur take his mouth the way he was letting him take his body. But in reality, he knew it was already too late for such small distinctions to matter. He was drowning, falling deeper with every roll of Arthur’s hips and every small shift of his expression. He wasn’t even sure he wanted it to stop.

 

“God— _Merlin_ —” Arthur choked. He looked almost frightened, and for a moment Merlin wondered if he was feeling it too, the sense that this had gotten too big, too fast. He cupped Arthur’s face with both hands, smoothing the sweat from his forehead.

 

“Shh,” he whispered. “I’ve got you, Arthur. I’ve got you.”

 

Arthur made a stifled noise that could have meant anything, but his eyes never left Merlin’s as he thrust once, twice more and spilled over, his teeth biting into his lower lip and muffling whatever sound he might have made as he came. Merlin felt every second of it, the sweet frisson of pleasure as Arthur struck the secret spot inside of him, the way his own muscles flexed and clutched as if to draw him even deeper inside. Worst of all, he felt it the moment Arthur climaxed, heard his indrawn breath and saw the expression of faint surprise as his mouth went slack, as though it had taken him unawares. 

 

The sight wrenched at Merlin’s heart unexpectedly, and when he came a few moments later it was in silence, eyes closed and fists twisting into the sheets, feeling the pent-up magic course through him in a burst of heat that made the candles flare. Arthur didn’t notice. By the time Merlin had come down from the post-orgasmic haze, the prince had already disentangled himself and flopped back to stare at the ceiling, oblivious to Merlin’s sudden change in mood.

 

“That,” he said, when he’d regained his breath, “was actually kind of amazing.”

 

Merlin forced a hollow laugh. “I told you there was nothing to worry about, sire,” he said. “You’re a natural.”

 

Arthur smiled and smacked Merlin’s chest with the back of his hand. “Shut up, Merlin,” he said, but he looked shyly pleased in spite of himself, and Merlin felt his stomach swoop unpleasantly, a combination of possessiveness and pure, blinding lust. _He_ had put that look on Arthur’s face, and God help him, he wanted to see it there again, wanted to roll over and take Arthur back inside of him and _keep him there_ until the two of them had fused together into one being. He couldn’t, in that moment, imagine relinquishing him to anybody else, yet he was going to have to do that very thing in less than twenty-four hours.

 

He had been right, Merlin realised, as he forced himself to get up off the bed and clean them both up. This _had_ been a terrible idea, because no matter how Arthur handled it in the aftermath—no matter whether the prince loved him or hated him or things went back to normal as if this moment had never existed—he was _getting married tomorrow_. This was the first and only opportunity Merlin would have to see him like this, and the knowledge was enough to break his heart wide open.

 

“Merlin?”

 

Arthur’s voice roused him, and he realised he’d been standing in front of the ewer on the dressing table, staring into space. The prince was still lying on the bed, now propped on one elbow, and looking at Merlin with a faint frown on his face. 

 

“Is everything all right?” he asked, shuffling towards the edge as if he were thinking of getting up. “Are you hurt? I thought you said—”

 

“I’m fine,” Merlin said quickly, wanting to stop Arthur from coming any closer. He wrung out the cloth and hung it up to dry, crossing quickly to where his breeches lay crumpled on the stone floor. “Everything’s fine. But I think—I think maybe I should go.”

 

“Oh.” Arthur’s face clouded, and he looked uncertain again, as if that wasn’t what he’d been expecting. It made Merlin’s chest ache to see it. “Okay, if that’s what you want.” 

 

“Yeah, it is.” Merlin gathered up the rest of his clothes and put them on, feeling Arthur’s eyes on his back but unable to turn around. His hands were shaking as he fastened his belt. “I—I’ll see you tomorrow, sire,” he said, keeping his eyes down as he hurried towards the door. “Good night.”

 

He didn’t stop until he was safely back in the infirmary, barely hearing the answering ‘Good night’ that trailed after him as he fled. Gaius was still awake, and looked at Merlin askance when he stumbled into the room, but fortunately he was used to Merlin storming into their chambers in high dudgeon and seemed to assume Arthur had once again done something to make him angry. He took one look at Merlin’s face, chuckled a little, and returned to his book with a shake of his head. Merlin didn’t stop to enlighten him.

 

When he reached his bedroom, he shut the door carefully and leaned his back against it, willing himself to stop trembling. He was being ridiculous, he knew. He had been fully aware of the situation going in, he had _known_ that he was in love with Arthur and Arthur didn’t feel the same way about him. He just hadn’t been expecting…he hadn’t expected it to feel like this. He could still feel Arthur’s cock inside his body, the remnants of his cum drying in sticky patches on the inside of his thighs. It had been _Arthur’s_ first time, so why was it that Merlin was the one whose whole world had suddenly turned upside down? 

 

“One more rule,” he whispered to himself, swallowing hard as he tried to collect the shattered pieces of his heart. “I am never, ever, going to think about this again.”

 


End file.
